I'm Not Ok

I'm not ok. I know that I've not been doing very well for the past few days, but now I'm beginning to wonder if it goes deeper than that. The idea is kind of scary - I'm broken enough, I don't need mental/emotion issues on top of what's already there - and then what do I do if there are bigger problems? I just don't know if I can handle this.
Next week, I go for blood work to see if the thyroid medication I'm taking is bringing my TSH levels down to levels that are healthier for pregnancy. This is the one thing we've found to try for my unexplained recurrent losses, so if the levels are good we start "actively" (you know what I mean) trying to conceive again. Basically right away. For the first time in over a year.
I'm really, really scared.
Even though I've been doing my best not to obsess about it, and spend great chunks of time not thinking about it, it's getting to me. I feel like I'm entirely made up of stress and emotions. There is this weight in my chest that is just pulling me down. I'm this weird combination of numb and panic.
Every now and then I have a moment of calm and clarity. I feel ok, "I can do this. Even if I have another miscarriage, it will be horrible, but I can make it through. I've done this before. I will survive." But mostly, the possibility freaks me out. At one point I had hope that something would work, would make a difference to allow my body to carry a baby to term, but lately all I can feel is that it's just not enough. Tinkering with my thyroid is just not enough to make a healthy environment for a baby. How could something so slight be the whole reason that they keep dying? How could this tiny adjustment be a fix? It's not going to be enough, and I'm either going to lose another baby, or just not get pregnant at all. The hope is so small, that it's almost non-existent.
Should I give up? I ask this now and then, and I know that somewhere I have my breaking point, somewhere is the place where I have to just stop before it consumes me. But, I can't do it. Not yet anyway. I'm driven by a need for another child. A need to give my Bug a sibling. I know many people choose to have only one child, and I don't for a second think there is anything wrong with that, but for me, I feel like I'm doing my son a huge injustice if I can't give him a brother or a sister. Like, I'm keeping him from one of life's great experiences. I'm sure some of this comes from growing up in a family of five kids (not always roses and ice cream certainly, but my sister is one of my closest, most trusted friends), since Boy - an only child - doesn't feel this way at all. I feel like my family is incomplete. I've already given up my ideal of having four children, I just can't see it as an option anymore, but to concede to having only one? I can't. let. go. It certainly doesn't help that lately Bug has taken to telling us that he wants a baby sister, mentioning all the things he'll share with her, and occasionally asking, "Is that our baby?" when he sees another little one in life or pictures. I keep telling him we are going to try to make another baby, but it doesn't always work out; but of course, he doesn't understand any of this at all. I mean, despite our trying to explain how we hope to have a baby, he still doesn't understand that we can't just pick one out of a picture, or take home the little girl from church.
So I'm kind of a mess. I'm trying to focus on positive possibilities, but it's so hard. The negative ones are screaming at me.

This morning, Boy had his weekly meeting with the senior pastor. They talk about work, and life, and keep in touch on all things important. Today Boy shared what was going on with us right now, and how we were close to trying again. I don't know the full discussion, but there was mention about how I was handling it all, and SP wondered if I had fully processed my grief from all my losses. When Boy mentioned this to me, at first I was just pissed off. "How does any one else have the right to say I'm not ok? He doesn't even know me that well, he has no idea how I'm doing!" And honestly, I like this man. He's been nothing but kind and helpful to us since before we moved here. So maybe my immediate defensiveness is not really a good sign.
As I talked with Boy and began to think about it, some memories came to mind. Over the past several months there have been more than a few losses with all of my Twitter friends. With all of them, I feel great sympathy and heartache for those going through the loss. But, there have been a few that have shared starting with a tweet much like this, "I'm spotting." Reading those tweets makes my stomach plummet, my chest constrict, and my spirit scream, "No, no, no! Not again."
Wow, even writing those words, I can feel my heart beat faster, my breathing get shallower. As I keep writing, the tears threaten and I can remember exactly how I felt every time the first signs of pink showed on the toilet paper - that frozen panic fear.
See, this doesn't seem like a good thing. I think maybe I'm really not ok. But, what do I do about it? The idea of trying to deal with another problem is just overwhelming. I've already got so many things in my life that I'm trying to figure out, how do I handle one more?
And - it's March. The weather is warming up, Spring is trying to sprung, green things are growing in my garden. It's the time of year where I've always felt myself coming to life again, felt energy renewing after winter and the slight depression that it brings. It was always a time of joy for me. Until I lost my first baby as the crocuses bloomed. Three years after that I had my second loss at the very end of February, and then a year later had my fifth loss, also during the month of March. I love Spring and finally feeling the sunshine on my face, but it brings waves of grief, bittersweet memories of seeing the first flowers bloom, celebrating my first baby, not knowing it was all going to end in a few days. This season now brings me an odd combination of joy and sorrow. Maybe some of what I'm going through right now is simply part of all of this. Maybe this year, this season will bring renewal, and a bit of healing through new life, not just outside, but maybe also within my womb. Maybe this year will bring redemption to March.